Of Thine Enemy's Blood part 2: Prisoner
by Psychomorph
Summary: An enemy's words can poison your mind. But what do you when those words are true?


Of Thine Enemy's Blood part 2: Prisoner 

by: Psychomorph 

e-mail: psychomorph@excite.com 

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The words were screamed in her head, echoing without meaning or purpose. A silent denial heard only by one, and even then by one who would not help her. To die by the tailblade of one of your own species was bad enough, but to die silently and alone save for your captor trapped within your own body... 

< I will kill you! I will rip you from my head and trample you beneath my hooves! > 

< Really, > the Yeerk replied dryly, < you're not in a position to be doing much of anything now, you know? > 

Zykahnser could feel the vile thing's presence inside of her like a noxious cancer. She could not physically sense the thing within her body; it's warped intimacy was known in the same way a madness or sickness of mind would be felt. It was like something growing and festering within her mind. Something with a will and purpose of its own. There were no exact words to describe the horror and self-loathing she felt at that time. She could morph. An fact the Yeerk had wasted no little time in taking advantage of. 

Her non-Andalite eyes surveyed the carnage done by the _ugoni_. Wires shed sparks and added slight fuel to the myriad of small fires burning around her. Panels were busted and contorted to shapes they were not meant for. Smoke hung in eerie shapes about the ceiling of the craft like writhing ghosts. The entire place had an acidic and arid scent which burned within her nostrils. 

< Well, this is certainly you fixer-upper. > 

< Shut up! > 

The Yeerk did not reply to her outburst. Rather, it caused her to demorph. The changes were rapid and chaotic. Fur burst from her skin at the same time an eyestalk grew from her head. Her feet skittered a moment on the slick deck of her ship as four talons came together to form hooves. The sharp spikes on her back receded while the final one on the tip of her tail became a tailblade. Throughout the entire process of demorphing the Yeerk said nothing. 

Zykahnser found quite to her shock that she could move. Of her own free will. Her tailblade whipped to meet her throat, to end the short-lived terror that dwelled writhing within her head. It halted inches away from her face. She struggled for a moment against the Yeerk's control. Their wills clashed like Titans of old Earth legend. Zykahnser fought hard, but failed. 

< You will not kill yourself, do you understand? You will be allowed freedoms, but not to kill yourself. Is this understood? > 

Zykahnser's answer was virtually screamed within her head. < YOU WILL NOT CONTROL ME! > 

The Yeerk sighed mentally. < That, my dear, is precisely what I am trying to tell you. I may be able to control your body, but for the life of me, I cannot make you shut up long enough to _listen_. > 

< Why should I listen to you, slug spawn? > she spat out with vehemence in her voice. 

< Because you're what earthlings would call a captive audience. Not shut up and listen to me. My name is Granis 1-5-2, although I hardly doubt you're celebrating at that discovery. You know well of the _ugoni_. What do you know of the _Ascalin_ incident? > 

A silence crept through her. < They were traitors to the people. > 

< Yes. Now. What do you know of the battle upon the _octrifnig_ homeworld? > 

< Nothing. > 

Granis laughed quietly within Zykahnser's head. < You are lying to me, young warrior. What do you know of that battle? > 

Zykahnser was silent for a moment, considering the absurdity of the situation. Andalites had attacked Andalites. Andalites had infested her with this poison and left her to die. Her pain wracked body was now healed, but with a new tumor within her brain in the form of a Yeerk. Zykahnser was infested, yet allowed minimal movements. The silence around her ground into her and a new absurdity suggested itself. She was standing on the deck of her ship talking to herself. There may be no Yeerk in her head. These thoughts may be no more than the final rambling of her dying, clouded mind. 

< Tell me what you know, Zykahnser. > 

The words tumbled from her mind. < A domeship was stationed in the orbit of the _octrifnig_ homeworld. The battle with the Yeerks had reached open status. There was open warfare upon the planet. Toward the end of the war upon the _octrifnig_ homeworld, there was a single deciding battle which determined who would ultimately win the war. A group of Yeerk bug fighters received the wrong orders and attacked disguised _octrifnig_ fighters. After that the tides of the war turned. > 

< Is that what they told you? They lied. It was no mistake. A mutiny, perhaps, but no mistake in orders. The war between your kind and mine is about to take a very dark turn, Andalite. A very dark turn. > 

A deep disgust rose up in Zykahnser. < And how could it possibly get worse?! Your kind has poisoned hundreds of worlds and killed who knows how many! You are a pestilence and it is my people's duty to destroy you! > 

< On the contrary, Zykahnser. I can't speak for my kind, nor do I wish to, I do speak for myself. I wish to help you. More specifically, to help Earth. > 

She scoffed. < And how could you possibly help Earth? > 

< I can keep your 'people' from destroying it. > 

(_to be continued_....) 


End file.
